The Kindred Years
by DeliciousKrabKakes
Summary: Mini-stories that pertain to the childhood and/or infancy of Amelia and Matthew. Established FrUk relationship. FACE family. K plus for language and possible adult situations (Thanks, France...). There may be mentions of pairings that I like.


**DISCLAIMERS:**

**I, DeliciousKrabKakes of Fanfiction (dot net), do not own or have any affiliation with the creators of Hetalia: Axis Powers. All rights respectfully go to Himaruya Hidekaz and Funimation Entertainment. I do not gain any sort of profit from the writing of this fiction, I simply write for fun.**

**NOTES:**

**There may or may not be some continuation of a few of these one shots within this story. These are all centered around Amelia and Matthew's childhood and/or infancy.**

**TIME JUMP. This means that this story will jump into the "modern" world, but Amelia and Matthew will still remain lil' kiddos.**

**Matthew Appears: 5 years**

**Amelia Appears: ½ year (6 months)**

* * *

_**The****Kindred Years**_

_Chapter One: Meet the Nations_

* * *

It was a well-known fact that Francis Bonnefoy was a show-off. He often dressed in flamboyant and flashy outfits to get attention from his _adoring _peers. There were two assets that he had that were never allowed to be shown to others, though. Matthew and Amelia. The little colonies that were officially considered Franco-English territories. It was sort of an unspoken agreement that Canada was more of a French colony, while America was more under the care of England. Therefore, Matthew would stay with Francis while Amelia would stay with Arthur.

Though France had wanted to care for Amelia originally, he was quite happy with Matthew. Francis often complained, however, that he wanted to dress up Amelia like the pretty little mademoiselle that she was. It seemed to be a ritual that whenever Francis came to visit Arthur and his tiny charge that the Frenchman would bring a little homemade dress that he expected her to be thrust into as soon as possible. Luckily for Francis, Arthur seemed to be glad for a break from the woes of caring for an infant whenever possible. Another reason that Francis had been quite content to care for Matthew. Just from _hearing _babies, Francis was set for life. He could dress them up, make them laugh, and even feed them (bottles or something else that is not very messy, mind you). But trying to put them to sleep? No thanks. Deal with all the drool and gross things that seemed to radiate from the little things? Nope. Change their diapers? **Hell **no. Francis most definitely was fine with being the doting papa, the one that gets all the perks of being a parent with none of the "yuck" factors. Besides, Arthur was such a mother hen anyway. America was only a baby, so she'd need all the focus that England could give, but he'd suffocate poor Canada with all the attention and fussing he does.

Anyway, back to more important things. Like France.

Francis liked to gloat and brag but the little colonies were something that he could never show off in front of the other nations, thanks to their other, more over-protective parent. Francis always called the Brit their "mother" or "mama" just to irritate him. He was rather insistent on "mama" being America's first word regarding England. Of course he wouldn't mind the first word to be "papa" in regards to himself, either.

Finally, however, Francis had broken the Brit's walls. Through drunkenness and irritation, Francis recieved the permission for Matthew and Amelia to attend the next world meeting which was taking place in Venice, Italy.

* * *

"Cher, you can sit down. Les bébés are fine, as cute as ever." Francis rolled his eyes at Arthur's expense, who was busy flitting around like a mother hen. The Frenchman was answered with a grunt of dissatisfaction. England tied the little bow around Matthew's neck and tucked in the toddler's shirt for what seemed like the fiftieth time. Mattie didn't say a word, though, being the polite little boy that he was. Arthur looked at the older of the two children and deemed him fit for the world meeting. Matthew was dressed like a gentleman but Francis needed to throw in some of his own flair as well. A red dress shirt coupled with a white vest adorned with a maple leaf, a pair of black dress pants, a small pair of black and white dress shoes, and all of it topped off with a white bow around his neck. With a nod, he sent the child to sit next to Francis for the five minutes until they were due to leave.

England looked around for his little charge, who he found next to the telly as she chewed avidly on her fist. Grimacing, the bushy-browed Brit went to her and took the drool-covered appendage from her mouth.

"No, no love. We're going somewhere important today, we don't want you getting your pretty dress all... slimy now, do we?" With a smile, he held onto the fist and looked at his little girl. Amelia looked at England, her fist, than back at England once more. From the look on her face, you could tell that she had no clue what was going on and that she wanted her fist back to suck on. Blue eyes welled with crystal tears and the baby started to whimper. Not wanting to deal with a sobbing infant right before taking the children to the first (and hopefully last) world meeting of their young lives, Arthur looked around for something to calm her down with. As the whining became more desperate, so did the blonde man as he searched all over the Italian hotel room.

"Oi, where the bloody hell is her dummy?!" Arthur addressed no one in particular. Matthew came to the rescue by kneeling next to Amelia and making a few silly faces. Looking at her older brother, she smiled and reached for him happily. This distraction gave England time to find what he was looking for, a small pacifier that matched the blue of the dress that she had been put into. She was also wearing a pair of white tights and some little black dress shoes. France had made sure that she would look lovely by making the dress himself. It was a light blue with some white lace thrown in. In the back, there was a little white bow. While Arthur made himself presentable for the meeting, Francis set off to finish the little girl's hair. After combing through the little golden curls, he pinned it back loosely with a blue bow. He had wanted to give her a little makeup, too. Maybe give her some eyeshadow or something of that nature. Not too much because she was already nearly as gorgeous as he was, but a little makeup never hurt anyone. He wouldn't have put blush on her because her cheeks already had that baby glow in them and he wouldn't have used anything on her lips because she had a tendency to drool... a lot. He had only just gotten his kit out when Arthur heard the tell-tale click of the lock on his case being undone.

"If I see my daughter with _anything _on her pretty little face, I'll ruin yours so horribly that your bloody _mum_ couldn't recognize you." Francis contemplated whether or not he would do what he wanted anyway but decided against it.

"Ah, Angleterre, you are no fun."

Soon enough, the family of four left to go to the place where the meeting would be held in Venice.

* * *

The meeting room was packed full of noisy, chattering nations. Arthur was a bit nervous to be bringing his two children into such an environment. The blonde curled his toes and hesitated again. Unfortunately, there was no backing out of this now. He bit his lip and tightened his grip on America, which earned him a small cry of protest and a little slap to his chest. Deciding to get this all over with, Arthur walked into the room behind Francis who was already showing off the young child that was clutching onto his leg in fear.

Not long after the four walked in, Matthew was seated on the table as he listened to the men, his papa and daddy included, prattle on and on about how tall he was sure to become and how he would be strong because he already was very sturdy and could nearly overpower Francis when he was upset, to which France was indignant and refused to make the statement from Britain a confirmed fact.

"He will be awesome as soon as he can get old enough to go out drinking and stuff! Not as awesome as me, 'cause _no _kid is that awesome, but awesome enough to beat Austria down like a sap!"

"Excuse me?! Just because _I _have class—!"

"He's too bloody young to be even _thinking_ about alcohol, git!"

"He seems to like that white bear, aru. Maybe he likes pandas. I'll have to show him some, aru~!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, America was being held by Hungary while all the women cooed and made themselves lose thirty IQ points every minute that they spoke to her. Felicia, ever the bubbly Italian woman, talked about bringing her home to try pasta and pizza. Though Matthew was shy and blushed as he was fussed over, Amelia _loved _all the people who were near her and giving her compliments. She squealed happily as Felicia tickled her midsection, her binkie falling out of her mouth in the process.

It seemed as though it was a good idea in bringing the children along. No one seemed to want to kill each other in the presence of the kids, Arthur hadn't the need for worrying about the two little nations being left alone with a sitter, and the small children seemed to be having a good time as well.

Enter Russia on this scene.

The pipe-wielding yeti-man walked into the room with a smile and a short apology for his tardiness. Even Germany wouldn't touch on the subject of his being late with a ten foot rod. Mumbled replies echoed as the rest of the noises were quieted. Except for one small noise that grabbed the blonde Russian's attention. America was still happily giggling away from her spot in Ukraine's arms. The shy woman smiled sweetly-if not a bit worriedly-at the baby. Ivan seemed intrigued by the cooing and laughing as a smile formed on his own lips. Arthur was nearly wetting himself where he sat from a few seats away. He wanted that man as far away from his little girl as possible. Then a few thousand miles more. Instead of backing away to Arthur's desires, Ivan went up close to the infant and looked at her.

Amelia giggled once more before looking up at the shadow that had fallen over her. Russia was smiling and trying to _not _look menacing, which was honestly more frightening than any normal expression he could offer. Felicia burst into tears of fright as she hid behind Germany with a white flag already waving. The stoic man sighed with a throbbing temple. Silence reigned in the room for a few seconds as little America looked up at the Russian with wide blue eyes.

After a few moments of terse quiet, Amelia went back to giggling and held out her arms to the large man above her. Arthur felt faint and collapsed on the floor. Violet eyes widened to saucer-size as pudgy hands tried to reach for him. Almost reluctantly, Kat handed the infant to her brother. Once settled in the arms of the scarfed man, Amelia took to babbling excitedly again. Small, pudgy hands grabbed the Russian's nose and tugged. She pulled her hand away and looked at it, seemingly disappointed that his nose was not in it. Chuckling, Russia sat down in his assigned seat so the meeting could begin.

One by one; the nations went up, gave speeches and presentations, got a few things of various origins thrown at them, before finally being seated again. Amelia and Matthew had been interested when the pattern had started but had since gotten over the initial excitement. Matthew was playing quietly with his papa's phone, his little legs swinging from over his perch on France's lap. Amelia was still being held by Russia, as no one had dared ask to hold her since she had reached out her arms. She was fast asleep, comfortably pressed against the older nation with her head resting on his chest.

Eventually, the meeting came to an end and the time came for all of the nations to return back to their respective homelands. England, who had been woken up by France not long after he had fainted, hesitated before striding up to the Russian that still held the snoozing infant. Ivan had remained seated throughout everything and spent the time away by slowly rocking the child back and forth. It seemed to have worked well, as America was still sleeping soundly. England cleared his throat, gathering the Russian's attention. The violet-eyed man smiled, sending a small shiver up Britain's spine.

"Baby is cute, da?" England looked at the girl who sneezed quietly in her slumber. The Brit smiled.

"Yes; when she wants to be, Amelia can be the sweetest little girl around. Now, I was wondering if I could possibly take her home now. It _is_ getting late and she needs her bottle."

Ivan sighed and petted her hair.

"Da." With that, he handed the child over to her father. She shifted and whined at the difference but England held her tighter and tried to make her cozy enough. Finding a comfortable place on his shoulder quickly, Amelia drifted off again. Sighing in relief, Arthur walked off to find Francis. Ivan sighed heavily when Arthur left the room. He didn't want to have to give America back to her father. As pathetic as it may have sounded, it was good to be wanted and needed by someone. Through the whole meeting, the girl never once cringed away from him or cried, like most babies (and adults, for that matter) often did. Like all good things involving Ivan, though, the feeling of someone actually desiring his presence was gone with her.

* * *

"Bloody hell, you _had _to leave me alone! I had to get Amelia away from that pipe-wielding psychopath! You couldn't have even waited a few minutes, you stupid git!" Arthur whisper-yelled at Francis. The Frenchman grinned but didn't reply because he was holding Matthew who, like his sister, was fast asleep. Russia walked by the family of four, stirring up a cool breeze as he did so. One could tell from his darkened expression that he had heard what Arthur had said. Normally, he'd be wringing the tea-sipping moron's neck right about now but America was sleeping on his shoulder still. So, it was ignored as though he were deaf to the words. He was used to it, anyway.

"Never again." Arthur hissed through his teeth. Francis kept his sly grin and wisely maintained his silence. England glared viciously, keeping his arms protectively wrapped around the sleeping baby on his chest.

True to his word, Arthur threatened Francis with a good kick in the balls every time he saw him if the Frenchman _ever _got him drunk enough to persuade him into doing a stunt like that again.

But Francis got his wish, in an offhand sort of way. He _did _receive attention through the two children. Not so surprisingly, the rest of the world had fallen in love—to an extent, at least—with both of them.

* * *

**Reviews and Constructive Criticism are _always _welcome! Let me know via review if you want me to continue!**

**~DKK**


End file.
